THE HEROIC BOY. The boy stood on the burning deck, Whence all but he had fled; The flames that lit the battle's wreck Shone round him o'er the dead. Yet beautiful and bright he stood, The flames rolled on-he would not go That father, faint in death below, He called aloud-"Say, father, say He knew not that the chieftain lay "Speak, father!" once again he cried, And but the booming shots replied, Upon his brow he felt their breath, And looked from that lone post of death In still, yet brave despair. And shouted but once more aloud, "My father, must I stay?" While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud, The wreathing fires made way. They wrapped the ship in splendor wild, They caught the flag on high, And streamed above the gallant child, Like banners in the sky. There came a burst of thunder-sound The boy-0, where was he? Hemans. THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIMS The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods against a stormy sky Their giant branches tossed, And the heavy night hung dark The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark Not as the conquerors come, They the truc-hearted came; Not with the roll of the stirring drum, In silence and in fear; They shook the depths of the desert's gloom, With their hymns of lofty cheer. 272 SONGS FOR THE LITTLE ONES. Amidst the storm they sang, And the stars heard, and the sea; And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang, To the ANTHEM OF THE FREE. The ocean eagle soared From his nest by the white wave's foam, And the rocking pines of the forest roaredThis was their welcome home. What sought they thus afar? Bright jewels of the mine? The wealth of seas, the spoils of war? Aye, call it holy ground, The spot where first they trod They have left unstained, what there they INDEX OF FIRST LINES. A little bird built a warm nest in a tree, 23 128 138 A little girl was sitting beside a cottage door, 1182 187 And has my darling told a lie? 146 And now the day is ending, 210 "A nosegay! who'll buy?" cried a sweet little child, . 70 A penny I have, . 246 A poor boy went by with his raiment all torn, 91 A rose most beautiful had grown, Around the throne of God in heaven, Autumn has come, so bare and gray, 254 218 113 207 238 20 Come, brother, go to church with me, 239 |